


You Called Upon Me at Your Darkest, but it was a Misdial.

by MosquitoParade



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anxious low, Chuck Shurley is Not God, Chuck has anxiety, Chuck is a fragile man and scares easy, Chuck is addicted to writing, Chuck is poor and starving, Gabriel has nothing better to be doing, Gabriel is here to help constantly, I like the dynamic a lot, I might write for them some other time, Kind of a study, M/M, Mentions of past panic attacks, Short One Shot, just writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-08-22 15:45:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16600868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MosquitoParade/pseuds/MosquitoParade
Summary: Raphael has an unfortunate demise, and Gabriel is the only Archangel there for the prophet, Chuck, during a panic attack, and soon realizes he's very attached to the man.So, Gabriel returns this time to find that Chuck is under stress about his lack of food, and money. Gabriel wants everything to be okay.





	You Called Upon Me at Your Darkest, but it was a Misdial.

**Author's Note:**

> In show, it's said that prophets have an Archangel tied to them, and you better believe I thrive for that.
> 
> ~~~  
> I love Rich and Rob, but I'm not currently comfortable with writing Real People Fiction, so this is the best I'm able to do.

The typing was a familiar noise, but it wasn't comforting right now. Chuck had been stuck to his laptop for hours now. He hadn't gotten up to eat, or pee in quite a while. So, when Chuck drained the last of his third cup of coffee, that's when Gabriel made his presence known.

"Hey, Chuck," He said, standing a few feet from the man, not trying to scare the fragile guy. "Buddy," There's no response, "Pal," Just typing, a brief pause to delete a line he didn't like, only to rewrite it with a minor difference. "Muchacho," Chuck's leg is tapping fast, and he hits it on his desk several times, but doesn't mind, writing away. "Amigo," Chuck chews his chapped, scabbing lips, stopping to watch the I curser blink in and out of existence. "Compadre."

"Oh," Chuck looks up from his writing, giving the Archangel an acknowledging glance, "Hello, Gabriel," He said, voice shuttering in a usual way that every fiber of Gabriel's being loved.

"You've been writing for a long time, huh?" Gabriel suggested, watching as Chuck's eyes fell to the laptop's internal clock.

There's a small, quiet, "Oh," from Chuck, and he looks back up at Gabriel, "Well, writing's my job." He begins, and Gabriel rests his body against the desk to listen, "I need to get something out. I don't really have any income right now." Chuck looked over at the fridge, which Gabriel knew contained a carton of expired milk, a head of lettuce, a pack of 3 remaining hot dogs, half a sleeve of crackers, and two miscellaneous baby carrots. The only other things in the house to eat was less than half a loaf of bread, and maybe the last inch of a cereal.

"Have you ever thought of getting another side job?" Gabriel asked, remembering how the last one went, but wanted to make sure he was reading the situation properly.

"I... I don't get enough time to write... and... th-th-the last time-" Chuck was quickly on the verge of tears recalling his last attempt at maintaining a second job.

"Okay. How about I make a deal with you then?" Gabriel offered, standing to move around the small house. He toed off his shoes at Chuck's front door, then took off his jacket, sliding it over Chuck's shoulders. It brought the human joy, and he watched the man's eyes light up as Chuck slipped his arms into the jacket that fit a little big on him. That's what Gabriel wanted for Chuck. Joy.

"What kind of deal, Gabriel?" Chuck asked, leaning back in his chair to see Gabriel mosey over to the fridge, throwing open the door.

"If you take care of yourself," The Archangel hummed, "I'll bring you food."

Chuck frowned, and Gabriel wanted to thank God for that adorable little face the human made. "Why?"

"Well, Chuck, to be honest, when you're sad, I'm sad." The Angel explained, trying not to expose hims real motives, "And I don't like it when you're sad, but... I can't reward any shitty behavior. So, as long as you are trying, I'll keep up my end, okay?"

"C-could you tell me what I'm supposed to do, again?" Chuck asked. Damn it all, he was still frowning. Gabriel wanted to lean over and- Nevermind.

"As long as you get up in the morning, and you try to write, I'll bring you food." Gabriel promised, smiling gently at the prophet.

"I guess... I can try." He said softly.

~~~

The first two weeks, this plan went fine. Chuck would wake up in the morning, after a small ritual of self-hygiene, to coffee and bagels, he'd then surf the internet for ideas before writing, going back and adding more depth where it was needed, and adding a bit where the main characters had a heartfelt moment or engaged in another hard decision. Then by 12, he'd hear a knock at the door, and Gabriel would brandish just what food was on his mind at the moment. He'd eat with Gabriel hovering around, tossing some dirty plates and mugs in the sink. They'd chat a little, stuttering and all, until Chuck would get really giddy about an idea he had brewing in his mind.

Then Chuck would write until late into the day, Gabriel disappearing off to go 'attend to something', which he never spoke about later, no matter how much Chuck pressed, which was nothing more than a little bit of concern. Gabriel would come back later, offering some nice hot food that made Chuck quite full and happy, so that he could go to sleep rather successfully within the next two hours.

Today was not one of those days. Chuck woke up after several attempts to stay asleep, sleeping well into 1 pm, which is why Gabriel was hovering in the doorway.

"Hey, Chuck," He greeted, frowning in his own right, "Are you okay?" Taking a glance at the prophet told him 'no' immediately.

"Yeah, y-yeah, I'm fine." He mumbled, getting up slowly, and passing the angel in the doorway.

"Aren't you going to take a shower?" Gabriel asked, watching as the man strolled into the kitchen, expecting coffee, which wasn't there since it was a reward for showering, brushing teeth, and dressing in day clothes even though he probably wasn't going to leave the house.

"Hmm?" Chuck opened the fridge, and glanced at where he'd sat last nights leftovers, but he didn't go to pick them up, and pop it in the microwave. Instead, the prophet sat on his desk chair, staring at the screen of his computer.

"It'll make you feel better," Gabriel tried, walking to follow the man.

"I d-d-don't feel like it. It-it's too m-much w-w-w- it-it's too much." Chuck rattled off, stuttering hard, turning on his laptop after a second.

"Well, Chuck," Gabriel fussed. To his disappointment, he couldn't reach into Chuck's mind and fix his anxiety, or today's low. "How about you hop into the shower real quick? Wash away yesterday's grim."

"I don't want to." Chuck murmured, typing in the url to a bar.

Gabriel sighed and rested a hand on the one that Chuck was using the mouse with. "I know you feel like shit. But, could you take a shower for me?"

Chuck seemed to weigh the options, "Mmnnnn... Fine." The prophet stood up reluctantly and walked down to his bathroom. Gabriel stayed nearby, making sure the water was running, and that Chuck began to hum like he normally did when he was in that good headspace.

When Chuck opened the bathroom door, towel around his waist, Gabriel was sitting on the human's couch, glancing over one of 'Carver Edlund's' many books. "Feel better?" Gabriel asked, tossing the book onto the side table.

"I- Uh- Yeah... I am." The prophet wore a sheepish smile, "Thanks."

"Of course." Gabriel hummed, standing up, "So, what are you hungry for?"

~~~

As the weeks progress, turning to months, Gabriel grows more and more fond of the middle-aged human who stutters sometimes, and also occasionally ends up falling asleep against him while they watch silly movies at 9 pm. Maybe it was all God's plan for all this to happen. Raphael passing, Gabriel taking up where he'd left off, finding the prophet convinced that world was ending, only to be soothed asleep by Archangel magic... Maybe it was all okay after all.


End file.
